


Settled

by antheiasilva



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: M/M, Period-Typical Sexism, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 10:03:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11273229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antheiasilva/pseuds/antheiasilva
Summary: Young grows a beard. Rush pretends not to notice.





	Settled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [disaronnus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/disaronnus/gifts).



> This is a light-hearted and silly short drabble inspired by much gleeful watching of bearded Louis Ferreira in Motive, in which he is nothing less than delightful.
> 
> My OTF (One True Friend) disaronnus is responsible for the "Destiny Ways and Means Committee."
> 
> Updated for dialogue clarity and small typos. 
> 
> Inspiration note: I recently re-read the impeccable series Survival of the Fittest by [Potboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potboy/pseuds/Potboy) and realized that, for me, the idea of Destiny as a generation ship came from a conversation between O'Neill and Young in the second work. So thanks for that! (and so many other beautiful works)

Sometime after the first baby was born in Destiny, about a year after they emerged from stasis, Young found himself growing a beard, intentionally. It came in dark, like his hair, with flecks of grey and hints of red. He had mixed feelings at first, concerned it was his unconscious telling himself something about his mood that his conscious mind was missing. But it didn’t feel like depression, or inertia. He felt pretty settled these days. This galaxy had afforded them plenty of edibles and medicinals, and a striking lack of predators or adversaries — at least, of the interplanetary variety inclined to chase them across the universe. As the war with the Ori raged in the Milky Way, he felt occasionally grateful to be on this far side of the universe. At some point, coming back to Destiny from a communication stone trip became a relief, and he knew he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Rush had certainly lead the vanguard on distancing himself from Earth, but more and more of the crew had shifted from regret and resignation to acceptance and even appreciation. The formation of the Destiny Ways and Means committee had certainly helped foster a much-needed sense of community. Even Rush had conceded that the monthly theatre performances, open mic nights, bingo games and various other entertainments were crucial to their survival and advancement of Destiny’s mission. Ultimately, everything came down to morale. There was no way around it. And in that he was grateful to the younger members of their crew who seemed to have endless energy and imagination when it came to generating ‘fun.’ More often than not, he found himself leaning against the bulkhead at the back of the mess, beaming with a kind of paternal pride as Eli and Chloe introduced the evening’s performances. They’d already butchered several Shakespearean plays and re-enactments of classic genre movies. He’d fended off several requests to guest star, but it was when he found himself turning down the role of John Hammond in Jurassic Park that he realized that maybe the beard was shifting something about how his crew saw him too.

It was a quiet morning in the mess hall when he turned to Rush, “Does this beard make me look, I don’t know, old?”

Rush choked on his ‘coffee’. “I’m sorry?” he sputtered.

“You know. Old? Senior?”

Rush stared at him for a moment and turned back to his breakfast. “What makes you say that, Colonel?” he said, more to his plate than to Young.

“Chloe and Eli asked me to play Hammond in Jurassic Park. I don’t know. I just don’t think I’m Richard Attenborough levels of grey yet.”

Rush barked out a laugh. “Talk to me when you get asked to play Lear.”

Young chuckled. “Fair enough.” He looked at Rush. There was something else in his tone. “Wait, did they ask you….?”

Rush snorted. “A few months back. I expect it was more for the entertainment value of watching my reaction than a genuine request. “

“Ha! They’ve got nerve, those two. I’ll give them that.”

“Indeed.” Rush said with eyebrow raised. He looked at Young, as if considering his appearance for the first time.

“The answer is yes.”

“What?”

“It absolutely makes you look old.” Rush smirked as he rose from the table. “Welcome to the wrong side of fifty, colonel,” he called as he bussed his dishes and headed for the door. “It suits you.” 

Young laughed. Leave it to Rush to nest a compliment within an insult. He smiled to himself. How far they’d come.

-

It was a few days later, during a particularly quiet bridge shift, where Young looked up from his console at Rush, scarcely a foot from him and noticed how grey the man had gotten in the last year.

“You know, I actually hadn’t thought about it, but you’re right. Counting the years in stasis, I’d be what, fifty-one, fifty-two by now. Which means you’ve got to be at least, what, fifty-six? Fifty eight?”

Rush looked up. “I’m wounded you don’t remember my birthday, colonel,” he snarked, flipping his hair. “What’s your point?”

Young laughed, unfazed by Rush’s apparent irritation. “We’re going to get old out here.”

“To borrow a phrase from Eli: thank you captain obvious.”

“C’mon. Seriously. Like old. Do you ever think about it?”

“Unless the ancients left us a sarcophagus or a time dilation field, I’d say your assessment, while eminently banal, is correct.” Rush proceeded to stare at his console.

“So. If we don't get back to earth, which at this point,” Young waved a hand dismissively instead of finishing his sentence. “We’re going to live out the rest of our lives here.”

“Again, this is obvious. What’s your point?”

‘The rest of our lives. What? Did you not have grandparents? Have you never been to an old folks’ home? Aging is no picnic on earth, but out here? What happens when folks get hip problems, or knee problems, or heart stuff? Or, hell, I don’t know, high blood pressure.”

Rush snorted, “Do you have high blood pressure colonel?”

Young grinned.“If I do, it’s definitely your fault.” 

“Well, perhaps you should inquire as to whether Lt. Johansen can get some training in geriatric medicine when she’s next on earth, ”Rush retorted, but the quirk in his eyebrow and glint in his eye told Young that he was teasing him again.

“What did you think you’d be doing at this age on earth?”

“Math.”

“And when you retired?”

“More math.”

“What? No dogs? No grandkids? No golf.”

“Dogs are far too much work. One has to have children to have grandchildren. And I detest golf.”

“I thought all Scotsmen played golf. Okay, fine. Baseball? Cricket?”

“Math.”

“I bet you’re a cat person. I could see you with a bunch of cats, and a fireplace, scribbling in your notebooks.”

Rush sighed, exasperated. “Fine, colonel. Since you obviously want me to ask you about your retirement plans, by all means, wax poetic about about fishing and football and finally learning the banjo.”

“Nah. I have no musical talent. You should hear me try to sing. Like chickens dying. But you were right about the fishing and the soccer. Yeah, yeah. I know you probably meant American football. Never been a fan.”

“I thought that was a requirement from birth for any male deriving from middle-America.”

“Well, for one, I am not from middle America. And for two, you can’t just assume people’s sports preferences based on their hometowns. I hear not all Scotsmen play golf, after all.”

That got Young a real laugh. Rush smirked, and his eyes crinkled. Young found it endearing.

“I always thought I’d coach little league, to be honest.”

“Really?”

“I like kids.”

“I don’t.”

“I know. That’s why Eli and Scott like me better.” He cracked a self-satisfied grin.

“Well, I suppose if the crew keeps up the birthrate, you may well get the chance.”

“Hmm. I’m not sure how I feel about that. One or two babies is one thing, but….” He trailed off.

“You just said you like children.”

“I do. That doesn’t mean I want dozens of kids running around the ship. Maybe we need to have a chat with the crew.”

“About what?”

“Well… birth control.”

Rush coughed. “Are you serious? That had better be the royal “we” because there’s not a chance in hell—“

“Hah! Oh god,” Young burst out laughing. “Now there’s a thought. Welcome to Dr. Nicholas Rush’s health class. God, no, no. I mean a proverbial we. Well, maybe I meant TJ and Camille.”

“How progressive of you.”

“No- not because they’re women! Because TJ’s our doctor and Camille’s our HR person. They do the people wrangling around here.”

“Colonel, we’ve been on this ship for three waking years. Believe me. They already have.”

“What? How do you know?”

“I’m an astute observer of human behaviour. It stands to reason.”

“Bullshit.”

“Fine. I overheard Chloe and Lisa talking on the observation deck.” 

“Really? TJ never said anything.”

“Why would she?”

“We’ve had plenty of meetings about general crew health. With Camille. As you know, because you’re usually there.”

“Perhaps she felt a need to be discrete. I don’t know Colonel, and I confess, I don’t really care either.”

“Wait til Chloe has a kid. Then tell me you don’t care.”

“What?”

“She’s going to have less time for the science team. So will Lisa.”

Rush was silent.

“Don’t tell me it’s not crossed your mind since Charlie was born.”

“No. It hasn’t. I don’t spend time thinking about my team’s sex lives.”

“It’s not about that. It’s about people living their lives here. We’re getting old. They’re having babies. We’re earth’s first generation ship.”

“Is that why you grew your beard? Some misplaced sense of paternal sentimentality?”

“My beard? What does that have to do with anything?”

“You asked me if it made you look old. It appeared not long after whatever-its-name-is was born.”

“You noticed.”

“It’s tight quarters on this ship, Colonel.”

“It took you three days to notice Chloe dyed her hair purple with those weird plums.”

“I fail to see your point.”

“Do you like it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you like it? Do you think it looks nice? Is my face more pleasant to look at?”

“Can’t say I’ve given it any thought, Colonel.” He said, a little too fast, swiftly looking down.

“You said it suits me.”

“When?”

“The other day, in the mess.”

“I was mocking you.”

“Eeehh… I don’t buy it. I think it was a compliment, couched in an insult, maybe. But a compliment nonetheless.

“Think what you like. I makes no difference to me.”

“Uh huh.” He paused. “I like your beard.”

“What?” Rush snapped, a little too sharply.

“I think it makes you look wiser. And calmer. Course it showed up around the time we finally started to work together, so maybe I’m just biased. Eli says it makes you look, and I quote, ‘wizardy.’ You know he calls you Gandalf behind your back sometimes.”

“Does he, now?” Rush said, with feigned disinterest.

“Personally, I think you look more like Saruman, but what do I know?”

“Saruman? I hardly think–” 

“Ah ha! So you have seen them!” Young exclaimed.

“I’ve read the books. You couldn’t pay me to watch those insipid movies,” Rush said, looking down at the console again.

“Too bad. You know what this means.” Young smirked.

“No,” Rush said firmly, as if he knew what Young was about to say.

“You know it is only a matter of time,” Young teased.

“Absolutely not,” Rush said, more to the console than to Young.

“He’s going to ask you. You know he is.”

“I don't have to say yes.”

“Well….” Young cocked an eyebrow.

“There is no universe in which I’m going to be drawn into¬¬–”

“You say that now,” Young goaded. 

“There is nothing you could possibly say or do–“ Rush protested.

“I will take that challenge,” Young said triumphantly.

“It’s not a challenge; it’s a fact.”

“Debatable.” Young smirked again. “I owe the kid. Besides, you know he’ll never let it go. Just imagine the next decade….” Young trailed off deliberately and enjoyed watching Rush squirm at the thought of Eli’s endless persistence to get him to play Saruman if Young were to let slip Rush had indeed read Lord of the Rings. 

“Of course,” Young said in mock benevolence, “I could be persuaded to forget your slip of the tongue.”

“I’m listening.”

“Come to see Jurassic Park with me tonight.”

“What? Why?” Whatever Rush had expected Young to ask for, joining him for the ship’s amateur theatrics was obviously not it. 

“Because it’s good for morale.”

“How?”

“Because, believe it or not, people like you and want you to spend some time with them not barking orders or checking equations.”

Rush shrugged, not buying it. “They could say so themselves.”

“I’m saying so.”

“Are you, now?” Rush considered him with a calculating gaze, as if he were trying to work something out. His tone was deliberately patronizing.

“I am,” Young replied, his gaze steady.

“Well, since you ask so nicely, and are not at all blackmailing me, I suppose I’ve no choice but to say yes.” 

“Excellent,” Young said, rising from his chair and moving towards the door, clapping his hand on Rush’ shoulder as he moved past him.

Rush looked mildly affronted at the touch. “I’m glad one of us thinks so.”

“20:00 hours in the mess. I’ll save you a seat at the back. Don’t be late. And pick up your ration from Brody’s still. God knows, you’ll need it,” Young called from the doorway.

“Why?”

Young turned and leaned against the doorway, smirking. “You really haven’t been to one of these yet, have you?”

“No.” 

“Even better. It’s…well…you’re in for a treat. Or, something,” he shook his head, laughing, and tapped the doorframe affectionately as he headed off down the corridor.


End file.
